What I was feeling at the time

Although I was fully aware of my condition, I wasn't fully able to comprehend how it would impact the rest of my life. This was a blessing because I think I would've been completely overwhelmed if I'd known then just how drastically different my life would be. One thing I remember thinking was, "Am I really never going to shower again?" Of course, this was the least of my problems, but it was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that I would never shower again.

I also realized my nursing career was over before it had ever really begun. I was now the patient! Although it had taken me a while to decide what I wanted to study in college and "what I wanted to be when I grew up," I was completely committed to being a nurse.

My ultimate dream was to be a wife and a mother. It's not a glamorous dream, exactly, but it's what I'd always wanted most out of life, and I assumed I would have it. I didn't think anything would ever get in the way of that dream, either. In my mind it was just a given. [The loss of this dream didn't really sink in until the following May when my sister Sharon was in town visiting. She had two girls at the time and when I saw her mothering her own children, I started to cry because I could see in front of me what I'd never have. Although I was devastated at the time, this is something I have accepted, and it really doesn't bother me anymore. It's given me a lot of empathy for any woman who can't have children, or who has fertility problems.]

If I can't have children of my own, truly the next best thing is being an aunt. I dearly love my nieces and nephews, and I'm so glad to have them as part of my life. All of my sisters understand the importance of families, and they are all on their way to having relatively large families.

Even though I knew my "normal" life was over, and I would forever be disabled, I was still happy and still in good spirits everyday. The nurses in the ICU were wonderful and they took such good care of me. My sister Sharon said that I had the ability to charm anyone who was around me long enough. I'm not sure if this was the case or not, but the nurses genuinely seemed to like me and enjoy taking care of me. The feelings were very mutual, because I enjoyed the nurses just as much as they seemed to enjoy me.

The thing I enjoyed most at this time were the visits from my family and friends. The outpouring of love from my friends was overwhelming and it truly sustained me at a time when I definitely needed extra support. I had a steady stream of visitors and I was never left alone. Visiting hours started at 11 AM, and I watched the clock and expectantly awaited the arrival of my mom each day. My face would light up with a smile when she walked into my room and it was wonderful to have her near me, even if we were only watching TV or sitting side by side. My mom would leave for home every afternoon around 4 PM because she still had responsibilities at home to take care of; most importantly, still being "Mom" to my two younger sisters, Laura and Chandra. I never liked it when Mom left, but I knew it was important that she have time to take care of her other responsibilities.

In the evenings is when my friends would take over. Most of my friends were in school and/or working, so they would visit me in the evenings. The visits from my friends made it bearable to be without my mom. (It would've been a lot harder for me to say goodbye to my mom every afternoon if I knew I was going to be alone all evening.) Spending time with my friends made me feel "normal" at a time when my life was quite the contrary. You are only allowed two visitors at a time in the ICU, but after the nurses got to know me and my family and friends, I was able to bend the rules and have a roomful of visitors. Friends and family made all the difference.

Something to celebrate

I had a get together this past Friday evening with 10 of my friends to celebrate the sixth anniversary of my car accident. I like to do something special each year to celebrate being alive. We didn't do much, basically just talked and hung out, but it was great to be with my friends. My mom made a chocolate turtle cheesecake and it was really yummy! We also spent an hour writing Christmas cards to soldiers who were deployed to Iraq last week.

Here are some pictures from Friday night:

The aftermath

The day after my accident I was transferred to Barnes Jewish Hospital so that I could get the level of care I needed. (St. Anthony's Hospital where I was at, is only a level II trauma hospital, and I needed to be in a trauma I facility.) I was taken to Barnes in a helicopter and the doctor caring for me insisted that a nurse ride along in the helicopter with me to hold my head the entire time. My neck was that unstable, and even the slightest bump could have killed me or made my injury even worse.

I stayed in the ICU at Barnes for the next seven weeks and this started my road to recovery. So much happened, but I will just hit the highlights.

My neck was stabilized on November 19, two days after my accident. Dr. Riew, the surgeon that did my stabilization, was the best cervical spine surgeon in the world, and he only works on the cervical vertebrae in the neck. The surgery was only supposed to take four hours, but it ended up taking eight. After the surgery, the surgeon told my mom that he had never seen a person who's neck was so badly broken who was still alive. After my neck had been stabilized, I was put in a halo vest that I would have to wear for the next six weeks so that my neck could heal properly. (The halo was attached to my skull with four large screws.)

This is a halo vest

Since my neck was broken at the C2 level, I wasn't able to breathe on my own anymore. A tracheotomy performed a few days after my neck stabilization surgery. (A tracheotomy is when a tube is surgically implanted in your trachea, or windpipe.) A feeding tube was also surgically inserted in my stomach since I couldn't swallow food and water anymore.

I was kept in a drug-induced coma for about a week after my accident, but then the doctors started waking me up from time to time so that my family and friends could talk to me. One of the questions I get asked most often is what I thought when I woke up for the first time and I realized I couldn't move. Since I was really drugged up, I don't have one clear, defining memory where I remember waking up to find out the shocking news that I was completely paralyzed. However, when I was lucid enough to have coherent thoughts, I was fully aware of what had happened to me. It's hard to explain, but it's as if I had learned what had happened to me in my unconscious state, and I'd processed it and accepted it. I was just so happy to be alive that that is what mattered to me the most, even though I was paralyzed. I was also so relieved when I found out the accident wasn't my fault. I think it would've been/would be a lot harder to deal with if I'd done this to myself by causing the accident.

As the days went on, the doctors stopped giving me the drugs that would keep me sedated, and I began to learn more about what had happened to me and what my condition entailed. I loved hearing the details of the accident and everything that followed. I asked people the same questions over and over again, and I was just so amazed at what had happened to me. Up to this point in my life, I'd never broken a bone or even had stitches, so being a badly injured patient in the hospital was a completely new experience for me.

Here are a few thoughts about Thanksgiving 2003: My mom had originally planned to spend Thanksgiving in Texas that year with my oldest sister Miriam and her family. My younger sisters were going to be going with my mom, too, but I decided to stay home so that I could work. However, everyone's plans changed when I had my accident. My situation was very tenuous, and at first the doctors weren't even sure I would make it, so all of my family came home to St. Louis. Thanksgiving was just 10 days after my accident, so all of my sisters and their families were home for Thanksgiving, even though none of them had planned to be.

I don't remember all that much about Thanksgiving Day 2003, but I do remember all of my sisters being in the hospital with me, and someone had the idea of taking a family picture. I remember trying to smile for the first picture. It took so long to take the picture and it also took so much effort to try and smile that after the first picture I just laid there. I remember thinking, "No one's going to care whether I'm smiling or not." Here's the picture:

The only thing I wanted for dinner on Thanksgiving was a grape popsicle because I was so incredibly thirsty! However, I wasn't able to eat or drink anything since I couldn't swallow. (I'm not sure of the exact reason, but my muscles used for swallowing were very weak.) I also couldn't speak at all, not even a whisper. I could mouth words, but everybody found it difficult to read my lips, which was quite frustrating.

This picture is a picture of me wearing the halo vest that helped my neck heal in the right position. One of the nurses was wearing a Christmas hat and she put it on my head. One of the other nurses took a picture of me wearing it.

In this picture, the halo vest had been removed, and I was now wearing a hard cervical collar around my neck. 

I love looking back on these pictures because I can see just how far I've come since then.

November 17, 2003: part two

My mom arrived at the hospital around 4 PM, nearly four hours after my accident. My mom later remarked that she's probably the only mother in history to arrive at the emergency room with four chaplains! (Her friend Paul, in addition to the three chaplains she was working with that day for her school practicum that drove her to St. Anthony's Hospital so that she wouldn't have to drive herself.)

There was a police officer waiting for my mom so he could fill her in on the accident and everything that had happened. Then my mom saw the emergency room doctor and he told her about my injuries. My younger sisters, Laura and Chandra, were already at the hospital because the school secretary had driven them there. Mom, Laura and Chandra all went back to to see me in the room where I was being held. My mom noticed that I was hooked up to all sorts of tubes and different machines and that my neck was extremely swollen, but my face was totally unmarred. (It's amazing that all of my injuries were internal; I didn't have any superficial injuries, like cuts or scrapes.)

Later in the waiting room, my mom noticed that a large and ever-growing crowd of my friends from school and work, in addition to some of our friends from church, began to gather to keep vigil. Only family members were allowed to see me, but our friends came anyway. Every time the doctor would come out into the waiting room to update my mom on my status, a hush would fall over my group of friends as they strained their ears to hear what the doctor was saying. After a few times of this, my mom would motion for my friends to come closer so that they could hear what the doctor was saying so she wouldn't have to try and repeat it. "No sign of movement" was one of the only things my mom remembered the doctor saying.

My bishop and one of his counselors arrived that evening and they were allowed to see me to administer a priesthood blessing. My mom doesn't remember any of the words that were said in the blessing, but she did notice a small tear in my eye after the blessing was over. Although I didn't appear conscious, I'd obviously heard the blessing.

As the evening dragged on, most of my friends left for the evening. Around 11 PM my mom decided to go home to "not sleep" as she told the nurse. Although it was hard for her to leave me, she knew that she would need her strength. She came into my room one last time to see me. Although I appeared unconscious, I would wake up with a wild look in my eyes when people would loudly call my name. My mom didn't know if I could hear her or not, but she tried explaining the situation to me. "You were in a car accident. It was not your fault. You're in the hospital and the doctors are doing all they can for you." Mom also let me know her feelings. "You can't move and the doctors say that it's probably permanent. If you want to go to heaven with Dad, that's okay, but if you want to stay here I'll be here for you every step of the way and do all I can for you." After this my mom and my sisters said a prayer before leaving the hospital for the night. My mom asked Heavenly Father that my dad would be allowed to watch over me through the night. (I don't remember this, but the next day when my mom saw me she asked me if my dad had been there and I blinked my eyes to indicate "yes.")

November 17 was nearly over. So much had happened. I'd woken up that morning thinking it would be an ordinary day, but it ended up so differently. My life had drastically changed in a split second and it would never be the same. My old life was over and a new one was just beginning.

Happy anniversary to me!

Today is the sixth anniversary of my car accident. I definitely don't look at this day as a day of sadness. I look at it as a day of celebration. I celebrate because I'm alive, especially considering that I should have died in my accident. I celebrate because I'm healthy, especially for someone who is as disabled as I am. I celebrate because I'm happy—the happiest I've ever been.

I definitely consider November 17 to be my "second birthday." I survived on the day that I nearly died. Not only did I survive, but I feel like I've triumphed in the face of adversity. Physically speaking, my car accident was the worst thing that's ever happened to me, but spiritually, mentally and emotionally it's been the best thing to ever happen to me. I truly mean that. I feel like I'm such a better person than I used to be. I have better priorities, more empathy and compassion towards others, and a better perspective on life. For these reasons I can honestly say that I would never take back my accident if given the choice. The things I've gained far outweigh the things I've lost.

I love talking about my accident and my experiences. I love it when people ask me questions, although, usually people don't feel comfortable asking. That's why I've enjoyed talking about myself on my blog so I can answer some FAQs. It's a way I can share things about myself with people, without them having to feel uncomfortable asking. If you're ever curious about me and my life, please ask!